Ownfic: "Once Upon a Dream" for the Community
Title: Once Upon a Dream
Author: jtav
Recipient: Community
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Luna
Rating: PG
Warnings (highlight to view): AU
Summary: Luna overhears the Trio making Horcrux hunting plans. She insists Harry keep in touch with those he's leaving behind and gives him a stone that her father says will allow people to communicate in their dreams. Loony Lovegood might just be the only person who can keep Harry sane.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Bookofsecrets and Terra for the beta. Luna's version of the story of Scheherazade is based on the Andrew Lang translation of Arabian Nights, which can be read here.
"I don't understand why you keep that thing," Ron said. "Don't get me wrong; if anyone’s got a right to the locket, it's you, but it’s worthless."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I agree. It's morbid for you to carry that thing around."
Harry didn't say anything and sat down under the nearest tree. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. It was good for him to hold onto the locket, no matter what they said. R.A.B -- whoever he was -- died putting it in the cave. Dumbledore almost died trying to remove it. He kept it to remember why he was still willing to risk his life. Two men had already died hunting Horcruxes, and he wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.
The sun hung low in the sky, turning the lake a dull shade of orange. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. This was the last night before the summer holidays, and their last night at Hogwarts at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to be the only students not safely tucked away in their dormitories. The evening was unnaturally silent and still. Even the birds and insects were silent. It was as if Hogwarts itself mourned for Dumbledore.
No one spoke for a long time until Hermione said, "Shouldn't we be going back? We're supposed to be in the common room in twenty minutes. You know how Filch gets when he catches students out of bed."
Ron snorted. "What's Filch going to do? Give us detention?" He sobered. "Though I have to admit, detention sounds a lot better than Horcrux hunting."
"You can still turn back, you know. Dumbledore only said I had to do it. He didn't say anything about either of you." Despite his words, Harry didn't want them to stay away. He had only just gotten used to the idea that he wouldn't have to undertake his quest alone, and he didn't want to go back.
Ron shook his head. "No! We said we'd be with you whatever happens, and we meant it. No matter how bad it gets, we'll be there for you. Isn't that right, Hermione?" Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry felt a strange tightness in his chest.
"Yes, Harry. You ought to know by now that friends don't abandon each other." Harry looked up sharply. The voice was so soft that he might have imagined it, except he could now see Luna perched on one of the thicker branches, watching them with a mixture of interest and what he assumed was concern. She pivoted and leaped to the ground as if she climbed trees every day. Maybe she did. "Though I must admit, Horcrux hunting is even more dangerous than the things you usually do." She smoothed a wrinkle from her robes and smiled vaguely at them.
Harry couldn't do anything but stare at her. They had tried so hard to keep their plans a secret. No one else could know. It was too dangerous for anyone to accompany them, and the Death Eaters would certainly track down and torture those who might have information on his mission. He hadn't even told Ginny exactly what they were going to do. And now it was all for nothing. He glared at Ron and turned back to Luna. Maybe he could salvage this. He had to. "You, er, know how Horcruxes are. Fierce little buggers who bite your hand off. There's some in the garden of my house. We're going to hunt them down over the holidays. Aren't we?" Hermione made noises of agreement, but Ron stood terrified until Harry surreptitiously kicked him in the shin.
Luna bit her lip and shook with suppressed laughter. "You are a very bad liar, Harry. Besides, I know that Horcruxes aren't animals."
"What do you know about Horcruxes?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her and thought he knew where this was going. Maybe it wasn't a terrible thing that Luna had overheard him. They knew very little about Horcruxes. If Luna knew more, she could help them, or at least tell them where to look for more information.
"I know that they're Dark objects. My mother was an Unspeakable. She did a lot of research on the soul. A year before she died, one of her colleagues came to the house. He wanted to do a project on Horcruxes. They were talking in low voices, so I didn't hear the details. After he left, I'd never seen Mum so angry. She used some very rude words, words she told me never to say." She cocked her head to one side. "I find that anger makes people hypocritical, don't you?"
"Get to the point," Ron said, annoyed. "Do you know anything else?"
She shrugged. "Not really. You should be very careful. Mum always said that it was dangerous to interact with Dark things, even to destroy them." Harry sighed. So much for that theory. Luna continued, "Why are you trying to destroy them? Does it have something to do with the war?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes. Destroying his Horcruxes is the key to stopping Voldemort." He grabbed her upper arm. "You can't tell anyone what you've heard. Ever. Not Ginny. Not your dad. If anyone ever finds out you know...," he trailed off, unwilling to finish.
Luna gently pried his hand from her arm. "I promise I will tell no one of your quest, Harry Potter. But I want you to promise me something, as well."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And what would that be?"
Luna bit her lip. The wind blew a strand of hair into her face. Harry had a brief, irrational urge to brush it away. "Will you write to me? Horcruxes are deadly. Neville, Ginny, and I will worry about you. Well, Neville and Ginny won't know what you're doing, but I'm sure they'll worry."
"Are you in --" Ron threw up his hands. "It's not like we can send you letters through the Owl Post!"
Luna ignored Ron and took Harry's hand in hers. "I don't expect three feet of parchment every day. Just promise me you'll try to find some way to keep in touch every now and again." Her eyes lost their dreamy expression, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest intensify. "Please."
"I...I promise that I'll try."
Luna brightened and released his hand. "Thank you. Good night." And with that, she walked in the direction of the castle, humming a bad version of "Odo the Brave" as if the last five minutes had never happened. Harry watched her go. Just as she was about to vanish from view, she turned back. “And Harry," she said with a smile, "you should definitely keep the locket."
Harry stole a quick look around before grabbing the glass Molly had set out for him. The kitchen was deserted. Good. The last thing he wanted was for a wedding guest to wander in and see "Cousin Barney" downing Polyjuice Potion. He raised the glass to his lips.
"Harry!"
Harry jumped, nearly dropping the glass. Some of the potion sloshed over his hand and spilled to the floor. Wonderful. He swore under his breath and turned to see who had interrupted him, preparing to explain that he didn't know any person called "Harry" and this was actually a dose of the Lung-Strengthening Solution he took for his chronic bronchitis and most definitely not Polyjuice Potion.
Luna stood in the doorway, one arm propped against the doorframe. Harry exhaled. She already knew who he was; he needn't have worried. "You startled me."
"I'm sorry. I had to use the loo. I would have been back ages ago, but there was a fascinating specimen of a Miftring Mobely crawling across the floor. I didn't know that the Weasleys had any, did you?" Her eyes landed on the puddle in the floor. "That's a nasty spill."
"Yeah, it is." He placed the glass back on the table, withdrew his wand, and pointed it at the ground. "Evanesco!" The puddle vanished. He smiled slightly at her. "Good thing I'm of age."
"That reminds me…" She released the doorframe and rummaged through the pockets of her robes. "I got you a birthday present. Now, if I can only find it."
"You didn't have to do that."
"Don't be silly. Friends normally give each other birthday presents, don't they?" Luna appeared to have found whatever it was she was searching for because she hastily removed one hand and hid it behind her back. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand. It's a surprise."
What were they? Seven? "This is silly. They'll be wondering where we are. Just give it to me."
She smiled and shook her head. Her eyes danced with ill-concealed amusement. "No. It's a surprise. I'm not going to spoil it. You may as well accept that and close your eyes."
Harry sighed but obeyed. He heard the sound of soft footfalls as she crossed the floor. She took his outstretched hand in one of hers and placed something smooth and hard in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "I wish you a belated happy birthday. You can open your eyes now."
He opened his eyes and unfolded his hand to reveal … a rock. He stared stupidly at it. Even the Dursleys hadn't given him rocks for his birthday. Luna was grinning at him as if she'd just given him a new Firebolt. It wasn't like her to take pleasure in belittling others; there must be something special about this stone. Harry turned it over in his palm. There was a crudely carved rune that he couldn't decipher on the back. Other than that, it seemed to be an ordinary skipping stone. He gave up. "What is it?"
"It's a Dreaming Stone."
"A what?"
"A Dreaming Stone," she said again, as if they were as common and self-explanatory as cauldrons. "It lets you see into a person's dreams and communicate with them. One of the Quibbler readers sent it in. Daddy says it's the most important magical invention since broomsticks. I haven't forgotten your promise to me, Harry. Now you can contact any of us without worrying about someone intercepting your message."
Harry thought it hardly likely that anyone who had invented something that powerful would have sent it in to the Quibbler, but he didn't tell her that. Instead, he asked, "How's it supposed to work?"
"Put this stone under your pillow before you go to sleep and think of the person whose dreams you want to enter. When you fall asleep, you'll be in their dreams. Daddy says he hasn't been able to get it to work properly because of his sleep apnea, but I'm sure you'll have better luck."
Harry doubted that, but Luna seemed so enthusiastic about the whole thing that he didn't have the heart to contradict her. He put the stone in his pocket. "Thank you." At least he was absolved of his promise. He'd dutifully put it under his pillow once or twice. She could hardly fault him if it failed to work, and he wouldn't have to worry about Luna or anyone else being captured by the Death Eaters because of him.
"You're welcome." She turned to leave but stopped when she reached the door. "Don't forget to take your Polyjuice Potion. Your eyes are starting to turn green again. I rather like them that color, but some people might think it strange if you came out with different colored eyes."
It was Harry's watch and his turn to wear the locket. His skin felt cold and clammy where the metal touched him, like a dead thing. Even if he had never heard Kreacher's story or had any clue what had happened to the locket, there would’ve been no mistaking that it was a Horcrux. No ordinary object could make him feel like he was weighted down with stones or that he could never quite get enough air. He supposed he should feel like he had accomplished something, but things seemed worse than before. Then, at least, he had known what the next step in the plan was and had enjoyed the relative comfort and safety of Grimmauld Place. Now, he was stuck in a tent in the middle of nowhere, hungry and half-freezing, with no clue as to what to do next.
They had spent so much time planning how they were going to steal the locket that they'd given little thought to how they were going to destroy it. Harry decided that this was a serious oversight. He couldn't take many more nights like this one. Ron and Hermione were sound asleep inside the tent. Lucky them.
The presence of the Horcrux wasn't the only thing troubling him. Images from the Ministry kept stealing into his thoughts at odd moments. He remembered the nauseatingly pink pamphlets extolling the dangers of Mudbloods the team of witches and wizards had been working on and the mass of people who had passed the MAGIC IS MIGHT statue without so much as looking up. Mary Cattermole had begged for her life, and no one had moved to help her. She would have been thrown in Azkaban -- or worse -- if he hadn't been there.
How could so many people stand idly by and keep doing their jobs like nothing happened while Muggleborns were hunted down like dogs? Not everyone who worked at the Ministry was a secret pure-blood fanatic. It was impossible. Why didn’t they do something? Surely someone had guessed where the abrupt change in policy was coming from. Remus had said that people were too frightened to speak out. That only made a halfway kind of sense. There were so many more ordinary witches and wizards than there were Death Eaters. If everyone who knew what the Ministry was doing was wrong stood up and fought, even Voldemort wouldn’t be able to kill them all. He and his friends had taken the best that the Death Eaters had to offer and fought them to a near standstill in the Department of Mysteries. Surely, thousands of fully qualified witches and wizards could drive them back. Why did so many of them do nothing? Why were they such sheep to the regime? It made his head hurt just thinking about it.
He wished Ginny were here. She would have known exactly what to say to him or she would have kissed him until all thoughts of the Ministry or Horcruxes melted away. The Marauders Map was in the rucksack beside him. He took it out and activated it. Ginny was still in the girls’ dormitory. He wondered what she was doing. Was she safe? How horrible was Snape as Headmaster? Was she dreaming of him? He blushed at his own sentimentality.
It gave him an idea, though. He searched through the rucksack again and pulled out the Dreaming Stone Luna had given him. He'd packed it on a whim; it was small, one of the few mementos of his friends he could easily carry with him while he hunted for Horcruxes. It was probably a fake, but what if it wasn't? The Quibbler wasn't always wrong. Mr. Lovegood had been the only person willing to print the true story of Voldemort's return. If the Dreaming Stone did what Luna claimed it would, he could speak to Ginny. He knew it was a faint, foolish hope, but he was desperate for some form of comfort.
He waited until Hermione came to relieve him of both his watch and the Horcrux and then crept inside the tent. Ron stirred, and Harry froze. He didn't relish the thought of telling Ron that he was planning to visit his sister in her dreams. But Ron merely rolled over on his side and smiled. Harry sighed in relief and put the stone under his pillow. He lay down, whispered Ginny's name, and waited for sleep to overtake him.
The next thing he knew, he was standing at the back of the Transfiguration classroom. A dozen students, their outlines slightly blurred, were hunched over their desks, writing madly. McGonagall, equally as hazy and looking more severe than Harry remembered ever seeing her, scrutinized their every movement. No one in the room took any notice of him. There was no sign of Ginny.
"Five minutes," McGonagall called, "and remember the essay portion of this test should be at least three feet in length or you will receive a T, and you will be expelled and your wand snapped."
It was only then that he noticed that one of the girls was more clearly defined than the rest. It was Luna. She twisted her dirty blonde hair around her finger. "I'll never finish in time," she said calmly. Heedless of McGonagall's glare, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read.
Harry stood, watching her. He was dreaming; that much was clear, but he knew he was dreaming, which hardly ever happened. Was this the influence of the Dreaming Stone? If it was then where was Ginny? He walked among the desks. The other students remained oblivious. Now that he was close to them, he could see that their faces were as blurry as the rest of their bodies. Harry shivered.
Luna's head went up, as if she'd heard something. She closed her book, and turned around to look in his direction. She paled, and her eyes went wider than normal. "Harry?" she breathed.
"Luna? You can see me? What's going on? I used the stone like you said, and --"
He cut off. Luna threw herself out of the chair and ran towards him. She threw her arms around him, hugged him close, and buried her face in his shoulder. "You're here," she whispered.
He patted her on the back awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm here."
Luna looked up at him, studying his face. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that he was indeed there and stepped back. "Nobody at school has seen you since the wedding, and then there were rumors that you'd broken into the Ministry. We didn't know whether you were alive or dead."
He smiled weakly. "Still breathing." His tone grew serious. "Where are we?"
"I was having a dream about a test I hadn't studied for. You interrupted."
"So, we're in your dream?" She nodded. "So the Dreaming Stone does work. Where's Ginny? I was thinking of her. I'm very glad to see you, though," he added quickly.
"Thank you, Harry." She beamed at him with such intensity that he shifted under her gaze. "I don't know how you ended up here. Maybe you can only enter the dreams of the person who gave you the stone?" She clapped her hands together. "That must be it. I can't wait to tell Daddy. This is going in next month's issue."
Harry nodded. It made as much sense as anything else. Luna might not have been who he was planning to see tonight, but she was a good friend, and he found himself surprisingly glad to see her. Still, one thing puzzled him. "You know you're in a dream. Is the stone doing that, too?"
She grinned and shook her head. "That's all me. The Muggles call it lucid dreaming. I can do more than that, though. Watch." She scrunched her face in concentration. The desks, students, and McGonagall all vanished, and the classroom ceiling transformed to open sky. He found himself standing on an unfamiliar hilltop. The grass was a bright, vivid green of the sort that Harry had never seen outside of travel brochures that Uncle Vernon had occasionally brought home. At the bottom of the hill, the ground was carpeted with blue flowers. The sun warmed his face while a light breeze ruffled his hair.
"Where are we? What happened to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, we're still in my dreams." She smiled. "They do say that you can go anywhere you want in your imagination. I happen to take it more literally than most. Right now, we’re just outside the village of Glocca Morra in Ireland. My father took me here with him on an expedition just after my mother died. I think he was trying to distract me."
He hated it when she was like this, when she mentioned things that ought to be sad in such a matter-of-fact way. He never knew whether he was supposed to say he was sorry or ignore it. So he went with the safe option and said nothing. Luna continued, "So, Harry. You're here. How are you? Have you found any Horcruxes?"
He ought to have brushed it off. People never meant it when they asked you how you were. It was just to fill space like, "Lovely weather we're having," or "Great game on Saturday, huh?" No one was actually interested in the answer. But Luna was staring at him so intently that he said, "Horrible. I've got a Horcrux, no way to destroy it, and no clue where the others might be."
"That bad?"
"That bad." He sighed. "It wasn't supposed to be. Dumbledore gave me the Sword of Gryffindor, but Scrimgeour put a stop to that."
"Well, I'll definitely let you know if I ever run across it. It's probably at the school somewhere."
"You do that." Not that it would help much. To get into Hogwarts he'd need either Polyjuice Potion or a very, very big distraction. He'd have to trust that Fate would somehow provide the sword or he would have to find some other means of destroying the locket. "At the moment, I'm stuck with a Deluminator, a Snitch, and a book of fairy tales and no clue what to do with any of them or what they have to do with Horcruxes."
Luna brightened. "Oh, I love fairy tales! What book do you have?"
"Hermione inherited a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore. It's got to be the weirdest gift of the bunch. I mean, I can sort of see how a Deluminator might be useful, but a kids’ book?"
Luna didn't seem to hear him. "Dad's very fond of the Beedle stories. Personally, I like the Muggle stories best."
"You know Muggle fairy tales?" Luna had always spent so much time talking about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and the latest conspiracy theory that her father had dreamed up that Harry had always assumed everything she believed in was equally fantastical.
She nodded enthusiastically. "Mum was Muggle-born. She told me the stories when I was small. I've memorized most of them." She smiled slightly. "And you, Harry? Do you like fairy tales? You remind me of some of the heroes, so I suppose it would be only natural."
Harry flushed. He tried to picture himself as a prince from one of the badly-animated cartoons his primary school teachers had occasionally shown in class. He wasn't anything like them. "I've never heard many fairy tales. All I know are bits and pieces." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had seen to that. No nephew of theirs was going to read anything with magic in it.
"But -- but I thought every child who grew up with Muggles knew these stories. I could understand Ron not knowing them, but how could you not know anything about Bearskin or The Princess and the Pea? Are you sure that you're not just having me on?" Harry shook his head. "Well, then, we'll just have to do something about that, won’t we?" Her eyes lit up. "I know! I could tell you the stories at night when you visit me. What do you say?"
Harry thought it over. He wasn't terribly keen on hearing a bunch of children's stories, even -- no, especially -- from Luna. He'd outgrown them. On the other hand, Luna was his only contact with the outside world, and she was certain to be hurt if he said no. She might not come back. He'd be all alone with Ron, Hermione, and his thoughts. "All right."
She clapped her hands. "Excellent. It'll be just like Scheherazade and the Sultan. This'll be fun."
"Sha-hera-what?"
"I see I haven't begun your education a moment too soon. Come here and sit beside me.” Luna sat down on the grass and stretched her legs out. Harry followed her, feeling very stupid as he did so. She cleared her throat and began:
"Once there was a great sultan whose kingdom stretched as far as the eye could see. He had a wife who he loved more than all his riches and all his power. But his wife did not love him and was unfaithful. When the sultan found out, he saw that he had no choice but to order his wife to be beheaded, in accordance with the law. But the sultan had gone mad in his grief and decided that all women were as wicked as the sultana had been. It would be better if the world were rid of all of them. And so he decided that every day he would marry a girl and strangle her the next morning so they could not pollute his kingdom any further."
"That's ... please tell me the sultan dies at the end."
"Do you want the story or not?" Harry nodded reluctantly, and she continued. "The sultan's decree caused great horror and grief within the city. Maidens wept at the thought of becoming the sultan's new bride, and mothers trembled to think of what fate might await their daughters. The grand vizier was in charge of finding the sultan a wife every day and killing her the following morning. He knew the sultan was very wicked, but he dared not oppose his lawful lord.
"The grand vizier himself was the father of two daughters, of whom the elder was called Scheherazade, and the younger Dinarzade. Dinarzade had no gifts of wit or beauty to set her apart from the other girls. Scheherazade, however, was as beautiful as she was wise. Her father had given her the best tutors in history, mathematics, literature, and all the sciences, and he could deny her nothing."
"Sounds like Hermione."
Luna glared at him. "Harry..."
"Sorry."
"Where was I? Ah, yes. One day, Scheherazade went to the grand vizier and asked that he might grant her a favor. He promised to do so, for he knew that his daughter would only ask for that which was just and reasonable.
"'I am determined to end the sultan's barbarity,' she said. 'The people have lived in terror for too long.'
"'That would be a fine thing,' said the grand vizier. 'How do you propose to do it?'
"'You shall present me as the sultan's next wife.'
"The grand vizier was quite taken aback by this. 'Daughter, are you mad? You know what fate awaits the sultan's bride.’
"'Nevertheless, I am determined. If I die, I will have died gloriously. If I live, I will have done a great service to my country.'
"The grand vizier tried in vain to dissuade her, but Scheherazade held firm. And so, with a heavy heart, the grand vizier brought her to the sultan. The sultan was quite shocked that the grand vizier would present him with his own daughter, but his madness was such that he married her anyway.
"When they brought her into the chamber, Scheherazade asked if she might not have one final request since it was her last night alive. The sultan consented, and Dinarzade was brought to them. It was now about one o'clock in the morning. 'I wonder if your majesty would consent to me telling my sister a story, since it is the last one I shall ever tell her.' The sultan agreed, for he had been quite fond of tales in his younger days. So Scheherazade began. Her story stretched long into the night, and when the guards came to execute her at daybreak, she was only half done with her tale. The sultan waved the guards away for he wanted to hear the end. Her execution was postponed one day, but after that she was to be executed just as his other wives had been."
Harry found himself leaning forward and looking at Luna. "What happened? Was she executed? Did the sultan get what he deserved?"
"He --" A slow smile spread across Luna's face. "No, I don't think I'm going to tell you now. I'll tell you at the end."
"The end?"
"When you've either come back home or I've run out of stories. Every night you use the stone, I'll tell you a story." She sobered. "That way I know that you're all right."
A lump formed in Harry's throat. "You have a deal."
She beamed at him. "Good. I think I have time to tell you one before I have to wake up." She leaned in close to him. "Once upon a time..."
And so they fell into a routine. Harry spent his days trying -- and failing -- to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. Every night he would put the Dreaming Stone under his pillow and speak to Luna. She was as good as her word. She told him of the princess who was forced to become a goose girl, the soldier who found a magical tinderbox, and all the other stories the Dursleys had never bothered to tell him. Sometimes she would tell him about life at Hogwarts in his absence: an assignment Flitwick had given her or how the Gryffindor Quidditch team was faring in his absence. She never told him what it was like to have Death Eaters for professors and a headmaster, and Harry never asked. Neither of them ever mentioned Horcruxes.
Until...
"What do you mean they tried to steal Gryffindor's sword?" Ron whispered as loudly in a voice that could almost pass for whispering. "Are they trying to get themselves killed? Ginny must have overheard us complaining about Scrimgeour at the Burrow and put the others up to it. I am going to kill her when we get home." He drove a fist into his palm for emphasis.
Harry was too stunned to speak. He had a pretty good idea who had been the instigator of the attempted theft, and it hadn't been Ginny. How could he have been so stupid? He ought to have known that Luna might try to steal the sword. She believed in dozens of impossible things. It was natural that she would believe three students could break into the Headmaster's office and smuggle the sword out of Hogwarts.
Griphook had said that the three of them had been given detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. That didn't seem right. It was the sort of detention first years received while they were still half-terrified of Hogwarts. Snape knew they were all close to Harry. He'd probably take the opportunity to chain them up in the dungeons and suffocate them, if only because he couldn't do it to Harry himself. Perhaps Griphook was mistaken, and they were even now suffering Unforgivable Curses. There was only one way to find out. He dived for his rucksack and took out the Dreaming Stone.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, alarmed.
"Going to bed." He shoved the stone under his pillow, climbed inside the sleeping bag, and waited until his heart rate returned to normal and sleep overtook him.
Luna was waiting for him at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her back to him. It was night, even in the dream, and hundreds of stars shone in the sky, giving the tower a pale glow. Harry shivered. He knew that the tower had once been a popular place for illicit meetings, romantic and otherwise, and that students must still have classes here. But all he could see was Dumbledore getting hit in the chest by a bolt of green light and tumbling to the grass below. For a moment, he forgot his terror and his anger. "What are you doing here of all places?" he rasped.
She didn't turn around. "I like it up here. It's quiet." She pointed upwards. "The stars are quite beautiful, don't you think?"
Harry looked up and was forced to conclude that, objectively speaking, she was right. Not that it mattered much. "But Dumbledore died here."
She shrugged. "It's still beautiful. It would be horrible for me to give up something like this because of one bad memory. But you didn't come here to talk about Dumbledore. Are you ready for another story? I was thinking I might tell you the Muggle version of the tale of the Sword in the Stone. It's quite different from what Binns taught us."
"I didn't come to talk about Dumbledore or hear kids’ stories. Though, now that you mention it, there is a particular sword I'd love to hear about."
Luna did turn around at that. Her hair turned a silvery white in the moonlight. Harry could half believe that she was one of those Fair Folk the characters in her stories always had to be careful of. He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think about things like that. He had to focus. "I wondered if you would hear about that. Yes, Ginny, Neville, and I attempted to bring you the Sword of Gryffindor. I'm sorry it didn't work. I know how much you wanted it."
Harry closed his eyes. "Did Snape ... did he hurt you?"
"No. I'm fine. We all are." She crossed the length of the tower and stood before him, close enough that he could see himself reflected in her eyes. "See?" She took one of his hands and brought it up to her face. "No scars. Feel. Smooth as always."
He brushed shaking fingers across her cheek. He had always taken Luna at her word. He believed every word she spoke was the unequivocal truth. That wasn't enough tonight. He needed physical proof that she was unharmed. He kept his touch feather light, terrified that she would pull away. Luna's cheek was smooth and soft. No scars. But her cheek wasn't the only place Snape or the Carrows might have scarred her. He moved his hand across her face, touching her nose, her temple, everywhere.
When he brought his thumb down her lips to touch her chin, Luna closed her eyes. "Harry?" she whispered. "What are you doing?"
Harry dropped his hand and blushed. "Sorry. Got carried away there. Just needed to make sure that you were all right." The stress of guarding the locket and living in a tent was taking its toll on him. Yes, that was it. "Snape really didn't hurt you?"
"No. The Balenfrons must have been affecting his mood."
"What's a -- never mind." Harry crossed his arms. "That was still a very stupid thing to do. I left you and the others at Hogwarts so that you could be safe. I know I dragged you into the fight two years ago, but the Death Eaters won't hurt you when I'm not around as long as you don't make them angry." Luna laughed, and Harry stepped back. "What's so funny?"
"You thought keeping us at Hogwarts was going to keep us safe?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "Well, yeah. You guys only got involved at the Department of Mysteries or when the Death Eaters invaded the school because of me. I figured there was no need for you to fight anymore. You could all keep your heads down while I did what I had to do."
Luna took his hand. "We're not doing this for you. Well, I suppose we are in the sense that we want to do everything we can to help you succeed. But we didn't decide to reform the D.A. because we're your friends. We did it because the Carrows are wrong, Harry. The Dark Arts are evil, and Muggle-borns are not filth. I don't know if the D.A. will help defeat them, but I do know that we have to try." She squeezed. "No one is ever told what would've happened if we'd done something different, but I'd like to think that I'd still be fighting if we'd never met."
It was a long time before Harry could speak again.
"Ron's gone."
They were sitting outside a café that Luna said was somewhere in Budapest. The cobblestone street was deserted. Two cups of coffee sat in front of them, but Harry didn't drink. He'd learned the hard way that the food and drink in Luna's dreams had no taste at all.
She placed her hand on top of his. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
Harry snatched his hand away. "Don't be. Hermione and I don't need him. All he ever did was complain about being hungry. Well, now he can run home to Mummy, and she can fix him a dozen meals a day."
"It's all right to miss him, Harry."
Wasn't she listening? Ron was a useless blighter. He'd always been jealous of Harry's fame; all he wanted to do was ride on Harry and Hermione's coattails. Harry had been too blind to see it before, but he didn't need Ron and never really had. "He couldn't even handle the locket."
"What locket?" Harry told her, and her eyes went wide. "You let it touch your skin? My mother always told me that if you touch a Dark object, it makes it easier for it to affect your mind."
Harry threw up his hands. "What do you expect me to do? I can't just leave it out in the open."
"No, I don't suppose you can." She thought it over. "I thought you said that Hermione had some kind of special bag. Why don't you keep the Horcrux in there?"
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. It had always seemed self-evident that they would have to wear the locket in order to keep it. It was one of those things you did naturally, like riding a broomstick or sleeping on your side. Asking why you did it would have been stupid and pointless. But now that he was thinking about it, there seemed no good reason for him not to put it in the bag. It would be just as safe, probably safer. He shrugged. "I have no idea."
"I think I do. If the Horcrux was created by You Know Who, he probably imbued it with a little of his power. If they’re as powerful as you act like they are, they might be more than that. Was Ginny's diary a Horcrux? She told me that she had been possessed by Tom Riddle."
"Yes."
"Whatever else these Horcruxes might do, I think they must make anyone who's exposed to them more like him. Ginny attacked people with a basilisk, and you haven't exactly been cheerful lately. He probably likes that. If the Horcrux can affect your mind, then it might be preventing you from thinking about putting it in a place where it can't hurt you. It wants to be used. It wants to turn you into him"
Harry sat in silence. What Luna said made a certain kind of sense. The locket had made them all miserable, but none of them had ever discussed how they might get rid of it beyond Harry occasionally complaining that they would have had Gryffindor's sword if Scrimgeour hadn't been such an idiot. Hermione, at least, should have tried to come up with a plan, but she'd been as directionless and passive as Harry and Ron. That wasn't like her, but if he was Voldemort, then he'd want her to act like that. Maybe the locket had had the same idea. Not that Ron was any less of a prick for leaving. If Harry could stay the course, then so could he. "What do you think I should do?"
She almost smiled. "You could start by putting it in the bag."
"I'll try. I just hope it doesn't disappear on me in there."
"It won't." Her smile grew. "Remind me to tell you about the One Ring sometime. It's not a fairytale, but I think you'd enjoy it."
When Harry woke up the next morning, Hermione was bustling around the tent and scraping together what passed for breakfast. The locket dangled against her skin. "Good morning, Harry," she said in a clipped voice. "Could you go outside and start a fire for me?"
Harry climbed out of the sleeping bag, rolled it up, and put the Dreaming Stone back in his rucksack. "Could you do me a favor first? Put the locket in your beaded bag. I want to try something."
Hermione stared at him as if he'd just suggested they invite Draco Malfoy for a drink at the local pub. "Are you mad? Keeping the locket on me is the only way I can make sure it doesn't disappear."
Harry walked toward her slowly. "Why is it the only way? You're the only one who can put things in and get them out. Even I can't. The locket wouldn't go anywhere, and we wouldn't have to make ourselves miserable wearing it. How is that a bad idea?"
"I ... I just feel safer holding onto it!" she snapped. Her eyes were dark, and the color had gone from her face, leaving her as pale as the proverbial ghost -- or Voldemort. "You ought to feel the same way. If something happens to the locket, we might never find it again."
"You aren't answering my question." His heart raced as he advanced on her. Hermione retreated until she backed into the tent. "That's not like you. If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted the locket whispering in your ear."
She sniffed. "That's ridiculous! I'd be happy to chuck it into the Thames. I just don't have a choice."
"I'm not asking you to chuck it into the Thames. Give me the locket, Hermione. It's my turn anyway. You've had it all night." Something about the words "my turn" must have affected Hermione because she unclasped the locket and held it out to him. Harry took a deep breath. If this didn't work, he was about to act like a very great idiot. Nothing for it now. He drew his wand and pointed at the locket. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He guided the locket out of Hermione's hands and set it on the ground between them while she watched in astonishment. He grabbed his jacket and covered the locket with it for good measure. "Now, can you tell me why you won't put it in the bag?"
He watched as a little color returned to her cheeks. Seconds passed, and Harry was afraid that she wasn't going to answer at all. But then she looked down at his jacket. "I don't know why," she whispered. "There's no logical reason we can't hide the locket in my bag. Wearing it just seemed like --"
"-- the thing to do?" Harry finished for her. She nodded. "You want to give it a go?"
Another nod. "When I open the bag, float the locket inside. I don't think either of us should touch it."
Harry tossed his jacket away and did so. The locket seemed twice as heavy as normal. Luna was right. The locket didn't want to leave. Harry could feel it pushing against him. Sweat broke out on his forehead. If he listened closely, he could almost hear a high, cold voice whispering at him. Harry closed his eyes and did his best to shut it out. He'd come too far to fail now. At last the locket dropped into the bag. Harry collapsed into a sitting position, exhausted.
Hermione closed the bag hurriedly. "Glad that's over."
"Me, too."
Thanks, Luna. Couldn't have done it without you.
Thrushton Downs was barely large enough to be called a village, even by wizarding standards. It was, however, the traditional birthplace of Rowena Ravenclaw, and Hermione thought it was a likely Horcrux hiding place. So, Harry had changed his eyes to blue, Transfigured his hair to a light brown, lengthened it to cover the scar, and set off to investigate while Hermione poked around the ruins of a Norman keep outside of town. The streets were largely deserted, and Harry didn't meet anyone wearing cyan cloaks or doing anything obviously wizardy.
That all changed when he reached the church. Dozens of people in all manner of outlandish garb gathered around a freshly dug grave while an old man in long white robes said something Harry couldn't quite hear. He sighed. Another wizarding funeral.
A plump middle-aged woman with oversized hoop earrings scurried past and nearly collided with him in her haste. "Sorry," she murmured. "Didn't see you there. At least I didn't miss the funeral. Shame about what happened to poor Mary, isn't it? I always knew the Cattermoles were strange, but nobody just drops dead for no reason. Reg is taking it terribly hard, or so I heard."
Harry's mouth went dry. It couldn't be. "Mary Cattermole's dead? What happened to her?"
The woman leaned in for a confidential whisper. "She just fell over one day in her house. Doctors couldn't find a thing wrong with her, except that she looked terrified. But nobody dies of fright except in the movies. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some kind of shady business. Reg's been really secretive for three months, and Mary never leaves the house anymore. Honest folk don't act like that."
Harry went cold. He had risked his life to save Mrs. Cattermole three months ago, but she had died anyway. Voldemort's father and grandparents had looked like they’d died of fright, too, but they'd been slain with the Killing Curse. The Death Eaters must have found the Cattermoles after all. His little act of heroism at the Ministry had been for nothing. So far, everything he had done since fleeing from the wedding had been for nothing. Muggle-borns were dying, Ron had abandoned him, and his attempts to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes had been an utter failure. Suddenly, it was all too much. "I have to go." Without another word, he fled past the woman and down a side street. When he was certain he was alone, Harry Apparated back to camp.
Hermione was already there. "Harry? What's happened?" She rushed to his side and put one arm around him.
Harry shrugged her off. He didn't want to talk to her about it. Hermione was too practical, too logical. When she heard about a problem, she wanted to solve it. There was no fixing this. He'd done everything right, and the people he saved were still dying. Hermione would tell him that they would just have to try harder to find the Horcruxes, but how could they? He was already doing everything he knew to save the world.
No, he didn't want Hermione's brand of sympathy. He wanted Luna and her stories. The fairytales had a wonderfully clear moral order. The oppressed heroine married the king, and the false queen who had usurped her place got a justly deserved death. The most virtuous of the three brothers was the one who succeeded in his quest where his more talented siblings had failed. The innocents killed by the villain were brought back to life. The hero married his true love; and, despite everything, they all lived happily ever after. He'd kill for that right now.
When Harry used the Dreaming Stone that night, he found Luna standing on a beach. The wind whipped her hair, and high waves broke over the rocks in the surf. The sky was a stormy gray, and Harry could almost smell the rain that threatened to fall. "Bit more grim than usual for you, isn't it?"
Luna turned around and shrugged. "I'm a bit out of sorts, I suppose. Tonight's the last night
before the holidays. Normally, Daddy has a small expedition planned, but it's too dangerous to go out of the country this year. Ginny's here, but it doesn't feel right to make any plans for the D.A. when Neville is hundreds of miles away. So, I'm looking for something useful to do. I'm restless, and so is the weather."
Harry walked until he was standing beside her. It seemed very odd to him that it was time for the Christmas holidays already and stranger still that he had not realized it. Once, he would have been marking down the days until the end of term. He wondered if this was how adults felt. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Perhaps." They watched as a particularly large wave smashed onto the rocks. "You look sad, Harry. I thought you were keeping the locket in Hermione's bag like I suggested."
Harry scowled. "It's not always magic when people are upset, you know. One of the people I rescued at the Ministry was murdered by the Death Eaters anyway. I am completely useless as a Chosen One."
"Don't say that. You're battling a genuine Dark Lord. That’s generally what heroes do."
"And I'm doing a very poor job of it." Harry turned to her. "I've been on the run for over three months, and I haven't accomplished anything except learning to ignore hunger. There are still three Horcruxes out there, four if you count the locket, and I have no idea where they are or how to destroy them. At least you're doing something to actually fight the Death Eaters. I'm too busy running for my life."
Luna wrapped her arms around Harry and enveloped him in a fierce hug. "Oh, Harry,” she whispered against his skin. He clung to her as the wind rushed around them. Even though she was barely a shadow in a dream, she seemed the only solid or real thing in the world. More real than the tent and certainly more real than the Horcruxes.
Luna broke the hug. "I hope you feel better soon. You mustn't allow glass to pierce your heart."
"Come again?"
"It's from 'The Snow Queen.' A demon built a mirror that showed only the bad parts of people or things. The mirror broke, and a sliver got into a little boy's heart so that he could no longer feel love or joy or humor. The shard turned his heart to ice. He forgot his dearest friend, and she had to go on a long journey to save him and remove the shard of the mirror in his heart. Though, in the end, it turned out to be quite simple."
"I think I've only got ice in my heart." It seemed there were only bad things left in the world. The Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry without a fight and no one had said anything. The Order of the Phoenix had gone to ground. His best friend had abandoned him. The only people actually offering some resistance to the new regime were a ragtag team of students. He could try to save a few people, but it was like plugging your finger into a dyke during flood season. "How do I get rid of it?"
Luna studied him for a long moment. "Andersen had the girl cry over him, but in your case, I imagine a happy thought would be most helpful. Try to think of something good, something you’re looking forward to."
"Like your stories? Those are about the only things I have to look forward to these days."
She blushed and suddenly seemed to find her shoes very interesting. "If the fairytales help you, by all means concentrate on them." She looked up at him, and her expression returned to normal, so that Harry could almost believe he'd imagined her momentary embarrassment. "That gives me an idea. Why don't you come visit for Christmas?"
"One small problem with that," Harry said dryly. "I'm a fugitive from justice, remember? It's too dangerous for you."
"No more dangerous than leading the D.A. or printing especially uncomfortable truths. I'm sure Hermione knows all sorts of protective spells that will keep you hidden for a few hours." She took his hands in both of hers. "Besides, it will mean so much to me and my father."
Harry said nothing for a long time. It was much, much too dangerous to visit any of his friends, however briefly. The whole reason he'd broken off his relationship with Ginny and kept his quest secret was to keep those he loved safe from the Death Eaters. Yes, he ought to say no outright. On the other hand, it would be so nice to see a friendly face in person and not merely as a shadow from a dream. Perhaps Luna was right. He couldn't possibly put her in more danger than he already had. She'd made enemies of the Carrows, and she knew about the Horcruxes. It couldn't get more dangerous than that.
He sucked in a breath and prayed he wasn't going to regret what he was about to say. "I'll see you over Christmas, then." He brightened. "And you can tell me what happened to Scheherazade and the sultan."
"I promise you it's a happy ending."
"So he dies."
Luna smiled slyly. "I'll tell you when you get here." She beamed and clapped her hands, "Oh, this is going to be the best Christmas ever!"
Harry smiled. A few days more and he would see Luna again. Perhaps this story did have a happy ending.
Author: jtav
Recipient: Community
Characters/Pairings: Harry/Luna
Rating: PG
Warnings (highlight to view): AU
Summary: Luna overhears the Trio making Horcrux hunting plans. She insists Harry keep in touch with those he's leaving behind and gives him a stone that her father says will allow people to communicate in their dreams. Loony Lovegood might just be the only person who can keep Harry sane.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Bookofsecrets and Terra for the beta. Luna's version of the story of Scheherazade is based on the Andrew Lang translation of Arabian Nights, which can be read here.
"I don't understand why you keep that thing," Ron said. "Don't get me wrong; if anyone’s got a right to the locket, it's you, but it’s worthless."
Hermione crossed her arms. "I agree. It's morbid for you to carry that thing around."
Harry didn't say anything and sat down under the nearest tree. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him. It was good for him to hold onto the locket, no matter what they said. R.A.B -- whoever he was -- died putting it in the cave. Dumbledore almost died trying to remove it. He kept it to remember why he was still willing to risk his life. Two men had already died hunting Horcruxes, and he wouldn't let their sacrifice be in vain.
The sun hung low in the sky, turning the lake a dull shade of orange. A warm breeze ruffled his hair. This was the last night before the summer holidays, and their last night at Hogwarts at all. Harry, Ron, and Hermione seemed to be the only students not safely tucked away in their dormitories. The evening was unnaturally silent and still. Even the birds and insects were silent. It was as if Hogwarts itself mourned for Dumbledore.
No one spoke for a long time until Hermione said, "Shouldn't we be going back? We're supposed to be in the common room in twenty minutes. You know how Filch gets when he catches students out of bed."
Ron snorted. "What's Filch going to do? Give us detention?" He sobered. "Though I have to admit, detention sounds a lot better than Horcrux hunting."
"You can still turn back, you know. Dumbledore only said I had to do it. He didn't say anything about either of you." Despite his words, Harry didn't want them to stay away. He had only just gotten used to the idea that he wouldn't have to undertake his quest alone, and he didn't want to go back.
Ron shook his head. "No! We said we'd be with you whatever happens, and we meant it. No matter how bad it gets, we'll be there for you. Isn't that right, Hermione?" Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry felt a strange tightness in his chest.
"Yes, Harry. You ought to know by now that friends don't abandon each other." Harry looked up sharply. The voice was so soft that he might have imagined it, except he could now see Luna perched on one of the thicker branches, watching them with a mixture of interest and what he assumed was concern. She pivoted and leaped to the ground as if she climbed trees every day. Maybe she did. "Though I must admit, Horcrux hunting is even more dangerous than the things you usually do." She smoothed a wrinkle from her robes and smiled vaguely at them.
Harry couldn't do anything but stare at her. They had tried so hard to keep their plans a secret. No one else could know. It was too dangerous for anyone to accompany them, and the Death Eaters would certainly track down and torture those who might have information on his mission. He hadn't even told Ginny exactly what they were going to do. And now it was all for nothing. He glared at Ron and turned back to Luna. Maybe he could salvage this. He had to. "You, er, know how Horcruxes are. Fierce little buggers who bite your hand off. There's some in the garden of my house. We're going to hunt them down over the holidays. Aren't we?" Hermione made noises of agreement, but Ron stood terrified until Harry surreptitiously kicked him in the shin.
Luna bit her lip and shook with suppressed laughter. "You are a very bad liar, Harry. Besides, I know that Horcruxes aren't animals."
"What do you know about Horcruxes?" Hermione asked. Harry looked at her and thought he knew where this was going. Maybe it wasn't a terrible thing that Luna had overheard him. They knew very little about Horcruxes. If Luna knew more, she could help them, or at least tell them where to look for more information.
"I know that they're Dark objects. My mother was an Unspeakable. She did a lot of research on the soul. A year before she died, one of her colleagues came to the house. He wanted to do a project on Horcruxes. They were talking in low voices, so I didn't hear the details. After he left, I'd never seen Mum so angry. She used some very rude words, words she told me never to say." She cocked her head to one side. "I find that anger makes people hypocritical, don't you?"
"Get to the point," Ron said, annoyed. "Do you know anything else?"
She shrugged. "Not really. You should be very careful. Mum always said that it was dangerous to interact with Dark things, even to destroy them." Harry sighed. So much for that theory. Luna continued, "Why are you trying to destroy them? Does it have something to do with the war?"
In for a penny, in for a pound. "Yes. Destroying his Horcruxes is the key to stopping Voldemort." He grabbed her upper arm. "You can't tell anyone what you've heard. Ever. Not Ginny. Not your dad. If anyone ever finds out you know...," he trailed off, unwilling to finish.
Luna gently pried his hand from her arm. "I promise I will tell no one of your quest, Harry Potter. But I want you to promise me something, as well."
Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "And what would that be?"
Luna bit her lip. The wind blew a strand of hair into her face. Harry had a brief, irrational urge to brush it away. "Will you write to me? Horcruxes are deadly. Neville, Ginny, and I will worry about you. Well, Neville and Ginny won't know what you're doing, but I'm sure they'll worry."
"Are you in --" Ron threw up his hands. "It's not like we can send you letters through the Owl Post!"
Luna ignored Ron and took Harry's hand in hers. "I don't expect three feet of parchment every day. Just promise me you'll try to find some way to keep in touch every now and again." Her eyes lost their dreamy expression, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest intensify. "Please."
"I...I promise that I'll try."
Luna brightened and released his hand. "Thank you. Good night." And with that, she walked in the direction of the castle, humming a bad version of "Odo the Brave" as if the last five minutes had never happened. Harry watched her go. Just as she was about to vanish from view, she turned back. “And Harry," she said with a smile, "you should definitely keep the locket."
Harry stole a quick look around before grabbing the glass Molly had set out for him. The kitchen was deserted. Good. The last thing he wanted was for a wedding guest to wander in and see "Cousin Barney" downing Polyjuice Potion. He raised the glass to his lips.
"Harry!"
Harry jumped, nearly dropping the glass. Some of the potion sloshed over his hand and spilled to the floor. Wonderful. He swore under his breath and turned to see who had interrupted him, preparing to explain that he didn't know any person called "Harry" and this was actually a dose of the Lung-Strengthening Solution he took for his chronic bronchitis and most definitely not Polyjuice Potion.
Luna stood in the doorway, one arm propped against the doorframe. Harry exhaled. She already knew who he was; he needn't have worried. "You startled me."
"I'm sorry. I had to use the loo. I would have been back ages ago, but there was a fascinating specimen of a Miftring Mobely crawling across the floor. I didn't know that the Weasleys had any, did you?" Her eyes landed on the puddle in the floor. "That's a nasty spill."
"Yeah, it is." He placed the glass back on the table, withdrew his wand, and pointed it at the ground. "Evanesco!" The puddle vanished. He smiled slightly at her. "Good thing I'm of age."
"That reminds me…" She released the doorframe and rummaged through the pockets of her robes. "I got you a birthday present. Now, if I can only find it."
"You didn't have to do that."
"Don't be silly. Friends normally give each other birthday presents, don't they?" Luna appeared to have found whatever it was she was searching for because she hastily removed one hand and hid it behind her back. "Close your eyes and hold out your hand. It's a surprise."
What were they? Seven? "This is silly. They'll be wondering where we are. Just give it to me."
She smiled and shook her head. Her eyes danced with ill-concealed amusement. "No. It's a surprise. I'm not going to spoil it. You may as well accept that and close your eyes."
Harry sighed but obeyed. He heard the sound of soft footfalls as she crossed the floor. She took his outstretched hand in one of hers and placed something smooth and hard in his palm and closed his fingers around it. "I wish you a belated happy birthday. You can open your eyes now."
He opened his eyes and unfolded his hand to reveal … a rock. He stared stupidly at it. Even the Dursleys hadn't given him rocks for his birthday. Luna was grinning at him as if she'd just given him a new Firebolt. It wasn't like her to take pleasure in belittling others; there must be something special about this stone. Harry turned it over in his palm. There was a crudely carved rune that he couldn't decipher on the back. Other than that, it seemed to be an ordinary skipping stone. He gave up. "What is it?"
"It's a Dreaming Stone."
"A what?"
"A Dreaming Stone," she said again, as if they were as common and self-explanatory as cauldrons. "It lets you see into a person's dreams and communicate with them. One of the Quibbler readers sent it in. Daddy says it's the most important magical invention since broomsticks. I haven't forgotten your promise to me, Harry. Now you can contact any of us without worrying about someone intercepting your message."
Harry thought it hardly likely that anyone who had invented something that powerful would have sent it in to the Quibbler, but he didn't tell her that. Instead, he asked, "How's it supposed to work?"
"Put this stone under your pillow before you go to sleep and think of the person whose dreams you want to enter. When you fall asleep, you'll be in their dreams. Daddy says he hasn't been able to get it to work properly because of his sleep apnea, but I'm sure you'll have better luck."
Harry doubted that, but Luna seemed so enthusiastic about the whole thing that he didn't have the heart to contradict her. He put the stone in his pocket. "Thank you." At least he was absolved of his promise. He'd dutifully put it under his pillow once or twice. She could hardly fault him if it failed to work, and he wouldn't have to worry about Luna or anyone else being captured by the Death Eaters because of him.
"You're welcome." She turned to leave but stopped when she reached the door. "Don't forget to take your Polyjuice Potion. Your eyes are starting to turn green again. I rather like them that color, but some people might think it strange if you came out with different colored eyes."
It was Harry's watch and his turn to wear the locket. His skin felt cold and clammy where the metal touched him, like a dead thing. Even if he had never heard Kreacher's story or had any clue what had happened to the locket, there would’ve been no mistaking that it was a Horcrux. No ordinary object could make him feel like he was weighted down with stones or that he could never quite get enough air. He supposed he should feel like he had accomplished something, but things seemed worse than before. Then, at least, he had known what the next step in the plan was and had enjoyed the relative comfort and safety of Grimmauld Place. Now, he was stuck in a tent in the middle of nowhere, hungry and half-freezing, with no clue as to what to do next.
They had spent so much time planning how they were going to steal the locket that they'd given little thought to how they were going to destroy it. Harry decided that this was a serious oversight. He couldn't take many more nights like this one. Ron and Hermione were sound asleep inside the tent. Lucky them.
The presence of the Horcrux wasn't the only thing troubling him. Images from the Ministry kept stealing into his thoughts at odd moments. He remembered the nauseatingly pink pamphlets extolling the dangers of Mudbloods the team of witches and wizards had been working on and the mass of people who had passed the MAGIC IS MIGHT statue without so much as looking up. Mary Cattermole had begged for her life, and no one had moved to help her. She would have been thrown in Azkaban -- or worse -- if he hadn't been there.
How could so many people stand idly by and keep doing their jobs like nothing happened while Muggleborns were hunted down like dogs? Not everyone who worked at the Ministry was a secret pure-blood fanatic. It was impossible. Why didn’t they do something? Surely someone had guessed where the abrupt change in policy was coming from. Remus had said that people were too frightened to speak out. That only made a halfway kind of sense. There were so many more ordinary witches and wizards than there were Death Eaters. If everyone who knew what the Ministry was doing was wrong stood up and fought, even Voldemort wouldn’t be able to kill them all. He and his friends had taken the best that the Death Eaters had to offer and fought them to a near standstill in the Department of Mysteries. Surely, thousands of fully qualified witches and wizards could drive them back. Why did so many of them do nothing? Why were they such sheep to the regime? It made his head hurt just thinking about it.
He wished Ginny were here. She would have known exactly what to say to him or she would have kissed him until all thoughts of the Ministry or Horcruxes melted away. The Marauders Map was in the rucksack beside him. He took it out and activated it. Ginny was still in the girls’ dormitory. He wondered what she was doing. Was she safe? How horrible was Snape as Headmaster? Was she dreaming of him? He blushed at his own sentimentality.
It gave him an idea, though. He searched through the rucksack again and pulled out the Dreaming Stone Luna had given him. He'd packed it on a whim; it was small, one of the few mementos of his friends he could easily carry with him while he hunted for Horcruxes. It was probably a fake, but what if it wasn't? The Quibbler wasn't always wrong. Mr. Lovegood had been the only person willing to print the true story of Voldemort's return. If the Dreaming Stone did what Luna claimed it would, he could speak to Ginny. He knew it was a faint, foolish hope, but he was desperate for some form of comfort.
He waited until Hermione came to relieve him of both his watch and the Horcrux and then crept inside the tent. Ron stirred, and Harry froze. He didn't relish the thought of telling Ron that he was planning to visit his sister in her dreams. But Ron merely rolled over on his side and smiled. Harry sighed in relief and put the stone under his pillow. He lay down, whispered Ginny's name, and waited for sleep to overtake him.
The next thing he knew, he was standing at the back of the Transfiguration classroom. A dozen students, their outlines slightly blurred, were hunched over their desks, writing madly. McGonagall, equally as hazy and looking more severe than Harry remembered ever seeing her, scrutinized their every movement. No one in the room took any notice of him. There was no sign of Ginny.
"Five minutes," McGonagall called, "and remember the essay portion of this test should be at least three feet in length or you will receive a T, and you will be expelled and your wand snapped."
It was only then that he noticed that one of the girls was more clearly defined than the rest. It was Luna. She twisted her dirty blonde hair around her finger. "I'll never finish in time," she said calmly. Heedless of McGonagall's glare, she retrieved a book from her bag and began to read.
Harry stood, watching her. He was dreaming; that much was clear, but he knew he was dreaming, which hardly ever happened. Was this the influence of the Dreaming Stone? If it was then where was Ginny? He walked among the desks. The other students remained oblivious. Now that he was close to them, he could see that their faces were as blurry as the rest of their bodies. Harry shivered.
Luna's head went up, as if she'd heard something. She closed her book, and turned around to look in his direction. She paled, and her eyes went wider than normal. "Harry?" she breathed.
"Luna? You can see me? What's going on? I used the stone like you said, and --"
He cut off. Luna threw herself out of the chair and ran towards him. She threw her arms around him, hugged him close, and buried her face in his shoulder. "You're here," she whispered.
He patted her on the back awkwardly. "Yeah, I'm here."
Luna looked up at him, studying his face. After a moment, she seemed satisfied that he was indeed there and stepped back. "Nobody at school has seen you since the wedding, and then there were rumors that you'd broken into the Ministry. We didn't know whether you were alive or dead."
He smiled weakly. "Still breathing." His tone grew serious. "Where are we?"
"I was having a dream about a test I hadn't studied for. You interrupted."
"So, we're in your dream?" She nodded. "So the Dreaming Stone does work. Where's Ginny? I was thinking of her. I'm very glad to see you, though," he added quickly.
"Thank you, Harry." She beamed at him with such intensity that he shifted under her gaze. "I don't know how you ended up here. Maybe you can only enter the dreams of the person who gave you the stone?" She clapped her hands together. "That must be it. I can't wait to tell Daddy. This is going in next month's issue."
Harry nodded. It made as much sense as anything else. Luna might not have been who he was planning to see tonight, but she was a good friend, and he found himself surprisingly glad to see her. Still, one thing puzzled him. "You know you're in a dream. Is the stone doing that, too?"
She grinned and shook her head. "That's all me. The Muggles call it lucid dreaming. I can do more than that, though. Watch." She scrunched her face in concentration. The desks, students, and McGonagall all vanished, and the classroom ceiling transformed to open sky. He found himself standing on an unfamiliar hilltop. The grass was a bright, vivid green of the sort that Harry had never seen outside of travel brochures that Uncle Vernon had occasionally brought home. At the bottom of the hill, the ground was carpeted with blue flowers. The sun warmed his face while a light breeze ruffled his hair.
"Where are we? What happened to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, we're still in my dreams." She smiled. "They do say that you can go anywhere you want in your imagination. I happen to take it more literally than most. Right now, we’re just outside the village of Glocca Morra in Ireland. My father took me here with him on an expedition just after my mother died. I think he was trying to distract me."
He hated it when she was like this, when she mentioned things that ought to be sad in such a matter-of-fact way. He never knew whether he was supposed to say he was sorry or ignore it. So he went with the safe option and said nothing. Luna continued, "So, Harry. You're here. How are you? Have you found any Horcruxes?"
He ought to have brushed it off. People never meant it when they asked you how you were. It was just to fill space like, "Lovely weather we're having," or "Great game on Saturday, huh?" No one was actually interested in the answer. But Luna was staring at him so intently that he said, "Horrible. I've got a Horcrux, no way to destroy it, and no clue where the others might be."
"That bad?"
"That bad." He sighed. "It wasn't supposed to be. Dumbledore gave me the Sword of Gryffindor, but Scrimgeour put a stop to that."
"Well, I'll definitely let you know if I ever run across it. It's probably at the school somewhere."
"You do that." Not that it would help much. To get into Hogwarts he'd need either Polyjuice Potion or a very, very big distraction. He'd have to trust that Fate would somehow provide the sword or he would have to find some other means of destroying the locket. "At the moment, I'm stuck with a Deluminator, a Snitch, and a book of fairy tales and no clue what to do with any of them or what they have to do with Horcruxes."
Luna brightened. "Oh, I love fairy tales! What book do you have?"
"Hermione inherited a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard from Dumbledore. It's got to be the weirdest gift of the bunch. I mean, I can sort of see how a Deluminator might be useful, but a kids’ book?"
Luna didn't seem to hear him. "Dad's very fond of the Beedle stories. Personally, I like the Muggle stories best."
"You know Muggle fairy tales?" Luna had always spent so much time talking about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and the latest conspiracy theory that her father had dreamed up that Harry had always assumed everything she believed in was equally fantastical.
She nodded enthusiastically. "Mum was Muggle-born. She told me the stories when I was small. I've memorized most of them." She smiled slightly. "And you, Harry? Do you like fairy tales? You remind me of some of the heroes, so I suppose it would be only natural."
Harry flushed. He tried to picture himself as a prince from one of the badly-animated cartoons his primary school teachers had occasionally shown in class. He wasn't anything like them. "I've never heard many fairy tales. All I know are bits and pieces." Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had seen to that. No nephew of theirs was going to read anything with magic in it.
"But -- but I thought every child who grew up with Muggles knew these stories. I could understand Ron not knowing them, but how could you not know anything about Bearskin or The Princess and the Pea? Are you sure that you're not just having me on?" Harry shook his head. "Well, then, we'll just have to do something about that, won’t we?" Her eyes lit up. "I know! I could tell you the stories at night when you visit me. What do you say?"
Harry thought it over. He wasn't terribly keen on hearing a bunch of children's stories, even -- no, especially -- from Luna. He'd outgrown them. On the other hand, Luna was his only contact with the outside world, and she was certain to be hurt if he said no. She might not come back. He'd be all alone with Ron, Hermione, and his thoughts. "All right."
She clapped her hands. "Excellent. It'll be just like Scheherazade and the Sultan. This'll be fun."
"Sha-hera-what?"
"I see I haven't begun your education a moment too soon. Come here and sit beside me.” Luna sat down on the grass and stretched her legs out. Harry followed her, feeling very stupid as he did so. She cleared her throat and began:
"Once there was a great sultan whose kingdom stretched as far as the eye could see. He had a wife who he loved more than all his riches and all his power. But his wife did not love him and was unfaithful. When the sultan found out, he saw that he had no choice but to order his wife to be beheaded, in accordance with the law. But the sultan had gone mad in his grief and decided that all women were as wicked as the sultana had been. It would be better if the world were rid of all of them. And so he decided that every day he would marry a girl and strangle her the next morning so they could not pollute his kingdom any further."
"That's ... please tell me the sultan dies at the end."
"Do you want the story or not?" Harry nodded reluctantly, and she continued. "The sultan's decree caused great horror and grief within the city. Maidens wept at the thought of becoming the sultan's new bride, and mothers trembled to think of what fate might await their daughters. The grand vizier was in charge of finding the sultan a wife every day and killing her the following morning. He knew the sultan was very wicked, but he dared not oppose his lawful lord.
"The grand vizier himself was the father of two daughters, of whom the elder was called Scheherazade, and the younger Dinarzade. Dinarzade had no gifts of wit or beauty to set her apart from the other girls. Scheherazade, however, was as beautiful as she was wise. Her father had given her the best tutors in history, mathematics, literature, and all the sciences, and he could deny her nothing."
"Sounds like Hermione."
Luna glared at him. "Harry..."
"Sorry."
"Where was I? Ah, yes. One day, Scheherazade went to the grand vizier and asked that he might grant her a favor. He promised to do so, for he knew that his daughter would only ask for that which was just and reasonable.
"'I am determined to end the sultan's barbarity,' she said. 'The people have lived in terror for too long.'
"'That would be a fine thing,' said the grand vizier. 'How do you propose to do it?'
"'You shall present me as the sultan's next wife.'
"The grand vizier was quite taken aback by this. 'Daughter, are you mad? You know what fate awaits the sultan's bride.’
"'Nevertheless, I am determined. If I die, I will have died gloriously. If I live, I will have done a great service to my country.'
"The grand vizier tried in vain to dissuade her, but Scheherazade held firm. And so, with a heavy heart, the grand vizier brought her to the sultan. The sultan was quite shocked that the grand vizier would present him with his own daughter, but his madness was such that he married her anyway.
"When they brought her into the chamber, Scheherazade asked if she might not have one final request since it was her last night alive. The sultan consented, and Dinarzade was brought to them. It was now about one o'clock in the morning. 'I wonder if your majesty would consent to me telling my sister a story, since it is the last one I shall ever tell her.' The sultan agreed, for he had been quite fond of tales in his younger days. So Scheherazade began. Her story stretched long into the night, and when the guards came to execute her at daybreak, she was only half done with her tale. The sultan waved the guards away for he wanted to hear the end. Her execution was postponed one day, but after that she was to be executed just as his other wives had been."
Harry found himself leaning forward and looking at Luna. "What happened? Was she executed? Did the sultan get what he deserved?"
"He --" A slow smile spread across Luna's face. "No, I don't think I'm going to tell you now. I'll tell you at the end."
"The end?"
"When you've either come back home or I've run out of stories. Every night you use the stone, I'll tell you a story." She sobered. "That way I know that you're all right."
A lump formed in Harry's throat. "You have a deal."
She beamed at him. "Good. I think I have time to tell you one before I have to wake up." She leaned in close to him. "Once upon a time..."
And so they fell into a routine. Harry spent his days trying -- and failing -- to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. Every night he would put the Dreaming Stone under his pillow and speak to Luna. She was as good as her word. She told him of the princess who was forced to become a goose girl, the soldier who found a magical tinderbox, and all the other stories the Dursleys had never bothered to tell him. Sometimes she would tell him about life at Hogwarts in his absence: an assignment Flitwick had given her or how the Gryffindor Quidditch team was faring in his absence. She never told him what it was like to have Death Eaters for professors and a headmaster, and Harry never asked. Neither of them ever mentioned Horcruxes.
Until...
"What do you mean they tried to steal Gryffindor's sword?" Ron whispered as loudly in a voice that could almost pass for whispering. "Are they trying to get themselves killed? Ginny must have overheard us complaining about Scrimgeour at the Burrow and put the others up to it. I am going to kill her when we get home." He drove a fist into his palm for emphasis.
Harry was too stunned to speak. He had a pretty good idea who had been the instigator of the attempted theft, and it hadn't been Ginny. How could he have been so stupid? He ought to have known that Luna might try to steal the sword. She believed in dozens of impossible things. It was natural that she would believe three students could break into the Headmaster's office and smuggle the sword out of Hogwarts.
Griphook had said that the three of them had been given detention in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid. That didn't seem right. It was the sort of detention first years received while they were still half-terrified of Hogwarts. Snape knew they were all close to Harry. He'd probably take the opportunity to chain them up in the dungeons and suffocate them, if only because he couldn't do it to Harry himself. Perhaps Griphook was mistaken, and they were even now suffering Unforgivable Curses. There was only one way to find out. He dived for his rucksack and took out the Dreaming Stone.
"What are you doing?" Hermione asked, alarmed.
"Going to bed." He shoved the stone under his pillow, climbed inside the sleeping bag, and waited until his heart rate returned to normal and sleep overtook him.
Luna was waiting for him at the top of the Astronomy Tower, her back to him. It was night, even in the dream, and hundreds of stars shone in the sky, giving the tower a pale glow. Harry shivered. He knew that the tower had once been a popular place for illicit meetings, romantic and otherwise, and that students must still have classes here. But all he could see was Dumbledore getting hit in the chest by a bolt of green light and tumbling to the grass below. For a moment, he forgot his terror and his anger. "What are you doing here of all places?" he rasped.
She didn't turn around. "I like it up here. It's quiet." She pointed upwards. "The stars are quite beautiful, don't you think?"
Harry looked up and was forced to conclude that, objectively speaking, she was right. Not that it mattered much. "But Dumbledore died here."
She shrugged. "It's still beautiful. It would be horrible for me to give up something like this because of one bad memory. But you didn't come here to talk about Dumbledore. Are you ready for another story? I was thinking I might tell you the Muggle version of the tale of the Sword in the Stone. It's quite different from what Binns taught us."
"I didn't come to talk about Dumbledore or hear kids’ stories. Though, now that you mention it, there is a particular sword I'd love to hear about."
Luna did turn around at that. Her hair turned a silvery white in the moonlight. Harry could half believe that she was one of those Fair Folk the characters in her stories always had to be careful of. He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think about things like that. He had to focus. "I wondered if you would hear about that. Yes, Ginny, Neville, and I attempted to bring you the Sword of Gryffindor. I'm sorry it didn't work. I know how much you wanted it."
Harry closed his eyes. "Did Snape ... did he hurt you?"
"No. I'm fine. We all are." She crossed the length of the tower and stood before him, close enough that he could see himself reflected in her eyes. "See?" She took one of his hands and brought it up to her face. "No scars. Feel. Smooth as always."
He brushed shaking fingers across her cheek. He had always taken Luna at her word. He believed every word she spoke was the unequivocal truth. That wasn't enough tonight. He needed physical proof that she was unharmed. He kept his touch feather light, terrified that she would pull away. Luna's cheek was smooth and soft. No scars. But her cheek wasn't the only place Snape or the Carrows might have scarred her. He moved his hand across her face, touching her nose, her temple, everywhere.
When he brought his thumb down her lips to touch her chin, Luna closed her eyes. "Harry?" she whispered. "What are you doing?"
Harry dropped his hand and blushed. "Sorry. Got carried away there. Just needed to make sure that you were all right." The stress of guarding the locket and living in a tent was taking its toll on him. Yes, that was it. "Snape really didn't hurt you?"
"No. The Balenfrons must have been affecting his mood."
"What's a -- never mind." Harry crossed his arms. "That was still a very stupid thing to do. I left you and the others at Hogwarts so that you could be safe. I know I dragged you into the fight two years ago, but the Death Eaters won't hurt you when I'm not around as long as you don't make them angry." Luna laughed, and Harry stepped back. "What's so funny?"
"You thought keeping us at Hogwarts was going to keep us safe?"
Harry furrowed his brow. "Well, yeah. You guys only got involved at the Department of Mysteries or when the Death Eaters invaded the school because of me. I figured there was no need for you to fight anymore. You could all keep your heads down while I did what I had to do."
Luna took his hand. "We're not doing this for you. Well, I suppose we are in the sense that we want to do everything we can to help you succeed. But we didn't decide to reform the D.A. because we're your friends. We did it because the Carrows are wrong, Harry. The Dark Arts are evil, and Muggle-borns are not filth. I don't know if the D.A. will help defeat them, but I do know that we have to try." She squeezed. "No one is ever told what would've happened if we'd done something different, but I'd like to think that I'd still be fighting if we'd never met."
It was a long time before Harry could speak again.
"Ron's gone."
They were sitting outside a café that Luna said was somewhere in Budapest. The cobblestone street was deserted. Two cups of coffee sat in front of them, but Harry didn't drink. He'd learned the hard way that the food and drink in Luna's dreams had no taste at all.
She placed her hand on top of his. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
Harry snatched his hand away. "Don't be. Hermione and I don't need him. All he ever did was complain about being hungry. Well, now he can run home to Mummy, and she can fix him a dozen meals a day."
"It's all right to miss him, Harry."
Wasn't she listening? Ron was a useless blighter. He'd always been jealous of Harry's fame; all he wanted to do was ride on Harry and Hermione's coattails. Harry had been too blind to see it before, but he didn't need Ron and never really had. "He couldn't even handle the locket."
"What locket?" Harry told her, and her eyes went wide. "You let it touch your skin? My mother always told me that if you touch a Dark object, it makes it easier for it to affect your mind."
Harry threw up his hands. "What do you expect me to do? I can't just leave it out in the open."
"No, I don't suppose you can." She thought it over. "I thought you said that Hermione had some kind of special bag. Why don't you keep the Horcrux in there?"
Harry opened his mouth and closed it again. It had always seemed self-evident that they would have to wear the locket in order to keep it. It was one of those things you did naturally, like riding a broomstick or sleeping on your side. Asking why you did it would have been stupid and pointless. But now that he was thinking about it, there seemed no good reason for him not to put it in the bag. It would be just as safe, probably safer. He shrugged. "I have no idea."
"I think I do. If the Horcrux was created by You Know Who, he probably imbued it with a little of his power. If they’re as powerful as you act like they are, they might be more than that. Was Ginny's diary a Horcrux? She told me that she had been possessed by Tom Riddle."
"Yes."
"Whatever else these Horcruxes might do, I think they must make anyone who's exposed to them more like him. Ginny attacked people with a basilisk, and you haven't exactly been cheerful lately. He probably likes that. If the Horcrux can affect your mind, then it might be preventing you from thinking about putting it in a place where it can't hurt you. It wants to be used. It wants to turn you into him"
Harry sat in silence. What Luna said made a certain kind of sense. The locket had made them all miserable, but none of them had ever discussed how they might get rid of it beyond Harry occasionally complaining that they would have had Gryffindor's sword if Scrimgeour hadn't been such an idiot. Hermione, at least, should have tried to come up with a plan, but she'd been as directionless and passive as Harry and Ron. That wasn't like her, but if he was Voldemort, then he'd want her to act like that. Maybe the locket had had the same idea. Not that Ron was any less of a prick for leaving. If Harry could stay the course, then so could he. "What do you think I should do?"
She almost smiled. "You could start by putting it in the bag."
"I'll try. I just hope it doesn't disappear on me in there."
"It won't." Her smile grew. "Remind me to tell you about the One Ring sometime. It's not a fairytale, but I think you'd enjoy it."
When Harry woke up the next morning, Hermione was bustling around the tent and scraping together what passed for breakfast. The locket dangled against her skin. "Good morning, Harry," she said in a clipped voice. "Could you go outside and start a fire for me?"
Harry climbed out of the sleeping bag, rolled it up, and put the Dreaming Stone back in his rucksack. "Could you do me a favor first? Put the locket in your beaded bag. I want to try something."
Hermione stared at him as if he'd just suggested they invite Draco Malfoy for a drink at the local pub. "Are you mad? Keeping the locket on me is the only way I can make sure it doesn't disappear."
Harry walked toward her slowly. "Why is it the only way? You're the only one who can put things in and get them out. Even I can't. The locket wouldn't go anywhere, and we wouldn't have to make ourselves miserable wearing it. How is that a bad idea?"
"I ... I just feel safer holding onto it!" she snapped. Her eyes were dark, and the color had gone from her face, leaving her as pale as the proverbial ghost -- or Voldemort. "You ought to feel the same way. If something happens to the locket, we might never find it again."
"You aren't answering my question." His heart raced as he advanced on her. Hermione retreated until she backed into the tent. "That's not like you. If I didn't know better, I'd say you wanted the locket whispering in your ear."
She sniffed. "That's ridiculous! I'd be happy to chuck it into the Thames. I just don't have a choice."
"I'm not asking you to chuck it into the Thames. Give me the locket, Hermione. It's my turn anyway. You've had it all night." Something about the words "my turn" must have affected Hermione because she unclasped the locket and held it out to him. Harry took a deep breath. If this didn't work, he was about to act like a very great idiot. Nothing for it now. He drew his wand and pointed at the locket. "Wingardium Leviosa!" He guided the locket out of Hermione's hands and set it on the ground between them while she watched in astonishment. He grabbed his jacket and covered the locket with it for good measure. "Now, can you tell me why you won't put it in the bag?"
He watched as a little color returned to her cheeks. Seconds passed, and Harry was afraid that she wasn't going to answer at all. But then she looked down at his jacket. "I don't know why," she whispered. "There's no logical reason we can't hide the locket in my bag. Wearing it just seemed like --"
"-- the thing to do?" Harry finished for her. She nodded. "You want to give it a go?"
Another nod. "When I open the bag, float the locket inside. I don't think either of us should touch it."
Harry tossed his jacket away and did so. The locket seemed twice as heavy as normal. Luna was right. The locket didn't want to leave. Harry could feel it pushing against him. Sweat broke out on his forehead. If he listened closely, he could almost hear a high, cold voice whispering at him. Harry closed his eyes and did his best to shut it out. He'd come too far to fail now. At last the locket dropped into the bag. Harry collapsed into a sitting position, exhausted.
Hermione closed the bag hurriedly. "Glad that's over."
"Me, too."
Thanks, Luna. Couldn't have done it without you.
Thrushton Downs was barely large enough to be called a village, even by wizarding standards. It was, however, the traditional birthplace of Rowena Ravenclaw, and Hermione thought it was a likely Horcrux hiding place. So, Harry had changed his eyes to blue, Transfigured his hair to a light brown, lengthened it to cover the scar, and set off to investigate while Hermione poked around the ruins of a Norman keep outside of town. The streets were largely deserted, and Harry didn't meet anyone wearing cyan cloaks or doing anything obviously wizardy.
That all changed when he reached the church. Dozens of people in all manner of outlandish garb gathered around a freshly dug grave while an old man in long white robes said something Harry couldn't quite hear. He sighed. Another wizarding funeral.
A plump middle-aged woman with oversized hoop earrings scurried past and nearly collided with him in her haste. "Sorry," she murmured. "Didn't see you there. At least I didn't miss the funeral. Shame about what happened to poor Mary, isn't it? I always knew the Cattermoles were strange, but nobody just drops dead for no reason. Reg is taking it terribly hard, or so I heard."
Harry's mouth went dry. It couldn't be. "Mary Cattermole's dead? What happened to her?"
The woman leaned in for a confidential whisper. "She just fell over one day in her house. Doctors couldn't find a thing wrong with her, except that she looked terrified. But nobody dies of fright except in the movies. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some kind of shady business. Reg's been really secretive for three months, and Mary never leaves the house anymore. Honest folk don't act like that."
Harry went cold. He had risked his life to save Mrs. Cattermole three months ago, but she had died anyway. Voldemort's father and grandparents had looked like they’d died of fright, too, but they'd been slain with the Killing Curse. The Death Eaters must have found the Cattermoles after all. His little act of heroism at the Ministry had been for nothing. So far, everything he had done since fleeing from the wedding had been for nothing. Muggle-borns were dying, Ron had abandoned him, and his attempts to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes had been an utter failure. Suddenly, it was all too much. "I have to go." Without another word, he fled past the woman and down a side street. When he was certain he was alone, Harry Apparated back to camp.
Hermione was already there. "Harry? What's happened?" She rushed to his side and put one arm around him.
Harry shrugged her off. He didn't want to talk to her about it. Hermione was too practical, too logical. When she heard about a problem, she wanted to solve it. There was no fixing this. He'd done everything right, and the people he saved were still dying. Hermione would tell him that they would just have to try harder to find the Horcruxes, but how could they? He was already doing everything he knew to save the world.
No, he didn't want Hermione's brand of sympathy. He wanted Luna and her stories. The fairytales had a wonderfully clear moral order. The oppressed heroine married the king, and the false queen who had usurped her place got a justly deserved death. The most virtuous of the three brothers was the one who succeeded in his quest where his more talented siblings had failed. The innocents killed by the villain were brought back to life. The hero married his true love; and, despite everything, they all lived happily ever after. He'd kill for that right now.
When Harry used the Dreaming Stone that night, he found Luna standing on a beach. The wind whipped her hair, and high waves broke over the rocks in the surf. The sky was a stormy gray, and Harry could almost smell the rain that threatened to fall. "Bit more grim than usual for you, isn't it?"
Luna turned around and shrugged. "I'm a bit out of sorts, I suppose. Tonight's the last night
before the holidays. Normally, Daddy has a small expedition planned, but it's too dangerous to go out of the country this year. Ginny's here, but it doesn't feel right to make any plans for the D.A. when Neville is hundreds of miles away. So, I'm looking for something useful to do. I'm restless, and so is the weather."
Harry walked until he was standing beside her. It seemed very odd to him that it was time for the Christmas holidays already and stranger still that he had not realized it. Once, he would have been marking down the days until the end of term. He wondered if this was how adults felt. "I'm sure you'll think of something."
"Perhaps." They watched as a particularly large wave smashed onto the rocks. "You look sad, Harry. I thought you were keeping the locket in Hermione's bag like I suggested."
Harry scowled. "It's not always magic when people are upset, you know. One of the people I rescued at the Ministry was murdered by the Death Eaters anyway. I am completely useless as a Chosen One."
"Don't say that. You're battling a genuine Dark Lord. That’s generally what heroes do."
"And I'm doing a very poor job of it." Harry turned to her. "I've been on the run for over three months, and I haven't accomplished anything except learning to ignore hunger. There are still three Horcruxes out there, four if you count the locket, and I have no idea where they are or how to destroy them. At least you're doing something to actually fight the Death Eaters. I'm too busy running for my life."
Luna wrapped her arms around Harry and enveloped him in a fierce hug. "Oh, Harry,” she whispered against his skin. He clung to her as the wind rushed around them. Even though she was barely a shadow in a dream, she seemed the only solid or real thing in the world. More real than the tent and certainly more real than the Horcruxes.
Luna broke the hug. "I hope you feel better soon. You mustn't allow glass to pierce your heart."
"Come again?"
"It's from 'The Snow Queen.' A demon built a mirror that showed only the bad parts of people or things. The mirror broke, and a sliver got into a little boy's heart so that he could no longer feel love or joy or humor. The shard turned his heart to ice. He forgot his dearest friend, and she had to go on a long journey to save him and remove the shard of the mirror in his heart. Though, in the end, it turned out to be quite simple."
"I think I've only got ice in my heart." It seemed there were only bad things left in the world. The Death Eaters had taken over the Ministry without a fight and no one had said anything. The Order of the Phoenix had gone to ground. His best friend had abandoned him. The only people actually offering some resistance to the new regime were a ragtag team of students. He could try to save a few people, but it was like plugging your finger into a dyke during flood season. "How do I get rid of it?"
Luna studied him for a long moment. "Andersen had the girl cry over him, but in your case, I imagine a happy thought would be most helpful. Try to think of something good, something you’re looking forward to."
"Like your stories? Those are about the only things I have to look forward to these days."
She blushed and suddenly seemed to find her shoes very interesting. "If the fairytales help you, by all means concentrate on them." She looked up at him, and her expression returned to normal, so that Harry could almost believe he'd imagined her momentary embarrassment. "That gives me an idea. Why don't you come visit for Christmas?"
"One small problem with that," Harry said dryly. "I'm a fugitive from justice, remember? It's too dangerous for you."
"No more dangerous than leading the D.A. or printing especially uncomfortable truths. I'm sure Hermione knows all sorts of protective spells that will keep you hidden for a few hours." She took his hands in both of hers. "Besides, it will mean so much to me and my father."
Harry said nothing for a long time. It was much, much too dangerous to visit any of his friends, however briefly. The whole reason he'd broken off his relationship with Ginny and kept his quest secret was to keep those he loved safe from the Death Eaters. Yes, he ought to say no outright. On the other hand, it would be so nice to see a friendly face in person and not merely as a shadow from a dream. Perhaps Luna was right. He couldn't possibly put her in more danger than he already had. She'd made enemies of the Carrows, and she knew about the Horcruxes. It couldn't get more dangerous than that.
He sucked in a breath and prayed he wasn't going to regret what he was about to say. "I'll see you over Christmas, then." He brightened. "And you can tell me what happened to Scheherazade and the sultan."
"I promise you it's a happy ending."
"So he dies."
Luna smiled slyly. "I'll tell you when you get here." She beamed and clapped her hands, "Oh, this is going to be the best Christmas ever!"
Harry smiled. A few days more and he would see Luna again. Perhaps this story did have a happy ending.